


Nobody Fucks With Mumbles

by destimushi



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Blowjobs, Handsome Bob is a fucking tease, Lace Panties, M/M, Mumbles loves it, Porn, Sleepy Cuddles, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Nobody fucks with Mumbles.Nobody except Bob.Handsome Bob. Handsome fucking Bob.





	Nobody Fucks With Mumbles

**Author's Note:**

> My life has come to a complete stop since discovering Tom Hardy in this movie. I am absolutely in LOVE with all the character and Handsome Bob ugh.

Nobody fucks with Mumbles.

Nobody except Bob.

Handsome Bob. Handsome fucking Bob.

Mumbles leans back and spreads his legs to give his half-hard cock some breathing room. The couch is old, the cushion lumpy under his arse, but he hardly notices the discomfort. Hardly notices the soft light and the hazy cigarette smoke. The music is nice, but only because it enhances the gorgeous fucking specimen stalking toward him.

That quirky grin and that wild light in his narrowed eyes. That sinful sway of narrow hips and the shifting muscles under tanned fucking skin. Fuck, but Bob is gorgeous.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like I’m Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas supper rolled into one?” Bob rolls his shoulders and his tank top pulls taut against his chest.

Mumbles ain’t no perv, but Bob’s fucking tits get his engine revving every fucking time. “You know why, you bloody wanker.”

Bob smiles, and the flash of his crooked front tooth brings forth a fondness Mumbles reserves for very few people in his life. One Two, maybe, and Bob. Fucking Bob. The music is soft, sensual notes rolling off Bob’s bare shoulders like rain drops. Mumbles chuckles. Since when does he wax fucking poetry about another man’s shoulders like some fucking fruitcake.

Mumbles rubs his cock through his trousers and hisses, and judging by Bob’s single quirked eyebrow, he didn’t miss it. Of course he didn’t. Nothing gets past those brilliant blue-green eyes.

“I wanna hear you say it, Mumbles,” Bob coos, his voice low and husky. Like a well-aged single malt.

“Yeah? Well, I want a fucking pony,” Mumbles says and squeezes the base of his cock. Fuck, but Bob’s pink lacy panties are driving him up the wall. “We don’t always get what we want, sweetheart.”

“Bullshit. You know I always get what I want.” Bob takes another step toward Mumbles, and Christ on a cracker he’s wearing those shoes Mumbles loves so much. Fuck me pumps is what he calls them.

“You gonna put that pretty mouth to good use? Or you just gonna flap your gums ‘til I’m so old my dick falls off?”

Bob laughs, and Mumbles can’t help his heart somersaulting in his ribcage. Sometimes Bob’s laughter is the only thing that gets him through the day. Mumbles groans and holds out both hands, fingers twitching in invitation. The corner of Bob’s lips twitches, lifts in a slow grin, and he strips off his tank top as he glides into Mumbles’ embrace. Graceful. Like a cat. A fucking smug cat who’s got his eyes on the fucking cream.

And the cream is Mumbles.

Mumbles doesn’t know where the cigarette smoke’s coming from, but it adds a softness to Bob’s edges. To the cut of his square jaw, the expanse of his hard muscles. It swirls around them like a thread, binding and lashing them together until Bob is all Mumbles sees, smells, tastes. He runs his hands down Bob’s back, revelling in the smoothness of his skin, his fingers tracing secret curves covered by even more secret tattoos. Ink he hides from the public eye. Ink that defines him.

“You know what you do to me, boy?” Mumbles leans in and inhales until his chest expands no further. Until his lungs are filled with Bob. Fucking gorgeous Bob.

“You know what you do to _me_ , old man?” Bob nuzzles the soft skin behind Mumbles’ ear, and the scrape of his stubble sends a jolt to Mumbles’ already aching dick.

“Call me old again, and I’ll cut off your tongue.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bob mumbles against his neck. “How else would I do this?” And he licks along Mumbles’ skin. Cat...cream.

Mumbles groans and throws his head back against the lumpy couch. His fingers dig into supple flesh as Bob laps at his collarbone and down his chest even as his nimble fingers pop every button like it’s a fucking promise. A promise of what’s coming.

“Jesus—”

Bob hums and slides off Mumbles’ lap, off the couch until he’s kneeling between Mumbles’ thighs. His lips ghost over Mumbles’ skin, breath hot and moist and fucking shallow. Bob looks up, large green eyes sparkling beneath long lashes, and Mumbles forgets his own fucking name.  

Bob’s smile, that cocky, flirty twitch of lips, is replaced by something else. Something softer, more genuine. Vulnerable. And if that doesn't punch the air from Mumbles’ fucking lungs. Sometimes Mumbles wonders what it takes to become a man as good and pure as Bob, doing what they do, living the lives they live. Sometimes Mumbles wonder if liking men is what makes Bob so special. So precious.

Mumbles doesn’t like men. But Bob is more than that. Bob is Bob. Beautiful, handsome Bob.

And that beautiful Bob is between his legs, slender fingers working open his pants, and his hot breath, his plump lips, are inches from Mumbles’ dick. Mumbles runs both hands along Bob’s short cropped hair, his nails dragging along Bob’s scalp until Bob’s breath stutters.

“F-fuck,” Bob breathes, and he eases Mumbles’ erection from his briefs and presses his lips against the leaking tip.

“Sweet Jesus,” Mumbles gasps, his hips scooting forward, searching. Begging.

“Hold still and let me suck you,” Bob murmurs along the soft skin of Mumbles’ cock. “Then I want your cock so far up my arse I forget how to scream.”

Mumbles wants to respond with something clever, but all that comes out of his mouth is a drawn-out moan because fuck. _Fuck_. Bob’s lips are on his cock, tongue flicking against the slit and teasing the edge of his foreskin. No woman can do what Bob can do. They don’t touch it right, don’t treat Jr. with the roughness he likes. Craves.

Bob hums and wraps his hand around Mumbles, stroking down until the head of Mumbles’ cock—already purple with need—peeks out. Bob doesn’t waste time, just darts in and tastes the pearl of pre-come pooling at the slit, catching it with his tongue as it rolls off the side.

“Christ, Bob,” Mumbles gasps, and his hips thrust up as if possessed.

“Don’t you dare come, old man,” Bob says, and before Mumbles can reply with something snarky, Bob’s hot mouth descends on him.

Wet, soft, and so fucking tight.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this, yet it surprises Mumbles every time when Bob takes him, every last inch of him, in one swallow like he’s never heard of a gag reflex. Like his throat was made for Mumbles’ dick. Like if Mumbles is going to die, then he’d rather do it right here, dick buried down Bob’s throat.

Bob grins around his cock, lips glistening and stretched obscenely wide as he slides up and down his shaft. The room recedes, oxygen becomes this thick, viscous thing that fills his lungs like he’s underwater. Like he’s getting the life sucked out of him through his dick. Bob goes to fucking town on him, his hands roaming along Mumbles’ thighs, fondling his balls, curious fingers stroking and sliding further down until he’s gripping Mumbles’ arse cheeks. Urging, pleading, commanding.

Mumbles growls, squeezing his eyes shut for a hot second because if he doesn’t catch his breath and say a prayer, he’ll nut right there. He takes a deep breath, then another, and when he deflates his lungs a third time, he pushes Bob off him. “Enough. C’mere.”

Bob goes boneless for a second, and something dark and dangerous flashes behind his wide eyes. His cheeks are rosy, his lips even more plump than normal as he runs that talented tongue along them. He lets Mumbles drag him back up onto the couch and lets Mumbles arrange him on his lap. Lets Mumbles find that tight, pert nipple with his mouth and teeth and tongue.

He keens, a high-pitched sound full of need and desire and submission. His fucking gorgeous Bob. Mumbles laps at the sensitive nub, his teeth finding purchase as he nibbles with just enough force to tease. His hands are everywhere, exploring Bob’s thighs, hips, back. The fingers of one hand trace up and down the curve of Bob’s spine while his other hand reaches between their bodies. Bob’s cock is rock hard and hot, heavy with need, and it strains against the flimsy lace so gallantly trying to contain his arousal.

“Baby,” Mumbles lets go of Bob’s nipple long enough to say, “so fucking hard for me. And wet. You’re so fucking wet. You want my cock?” Bob nods, and his hips stutter as he searches for something. Anything. Anything Mumbles is willing to give. “Say it. Want to hear you say it.”

Bob groans, and fingers tighten around the back of Mumbles’ neck. “Fuck, want your cock. Give it to me, goddamnit.”

“You this bossy with all your lovers?”

“No, just you, Mumbles.” Bob’s voice is a hushed whimper. “Only you, you wanker.”

Something squeezes around Mumbles’ heart, tightness unlike anything he’s experienced. Feelings he can’t comprehend threaten to overwhelm him, threaten to drown him and he can’t breathe. Fuck. What’s a man like Bob, pretty fucking Bob, got any business saying shit like that to a fucker like him?

Mumbles swallows and ignores the pit in his stomach. He can deal with feelings later. Right now, there’s a willing, pretty piece of ass in his lap begging for his cock. He pulls back and rakes his gaze along Bob’s heaving chest, his abs clenching with each laboured breath and his creamy thighs spread wide, his skin a stark contrast to Mumbles’ own chocolate flesh. They look good together, black and white. Yin and yang, fitting just right, and Mumbles swallows again as he tries to clear his head.

“Well then, get up on this,” Mumbles says and leans back into the couch, grinning.

“I want it to hurt,” Bob breathes on a huff. “Want to remember this for days.” He reaches behind himself and scoots forward. Before Mumbles fully registers his words, the warm tight heat of Bob’s hole presses against his cock.

No prep? Not even some fucking lube? Just the slick of Mumbles’ pre-come and Bob’s sheer determination. Mumbles wants to ask. Wants to gather his sweet boy into his arms and sooth away whatever shit’s got him so riled. But Bob’s tight heat is sucking him in, and his body, so hard yet pliant, is pressing against him with a level of desperation Mumbles has never seen before.

Bob’s cock strains through the soiled panties, cock head a pretty shade of pink as it peeks above the elastic. His brows are pinched, his pretty face twisted in pain and something Mumbles can’t quite read. Bob’s thighs quiver, his whole body one beautiful bow of tension, and when he finally sinks all the way down, when his dry heat consumes Mumbles’ whole fucking body, the world settles into place.

The next few moments may as well be a lifetime. Mumbles clutches Bob to him, clutches his beautiful boy and fucks up into him. Into his heat and his desperation. Into a void he knows only he can fill. Bob’s cock rubs against the skin of his stomach, slick and hot as hell, and Bob’s voice echoes around the smokey room, his cries and moans and whimpers all shooting straight to Mumbles’ dick.

He doesn’t last long, how can he when perfection is literally bouncing in his lap? And Bob, pretty, pretty Bob milks him just the right way, his arse clenching with just the right amount of pressure. When Mumbles comes undone, it’s to the sound of his name rolling off Bob’s tongue, his seed painting Mumbles’ chest in stripes. His world blanks as if he and Bob are the only two people in this perfect moment.

Bob clings to him, body lax, breath warm against his neck, and Mumbles chuckles. “Talk to me, Handsome Bob.”

He laughs, his forehead rolling against Mumbles’ shoulder, and says, “When I find my brain.”

Mumbles pulls Bob into him, ignoring the cooling spend on his skin, and kisses the soft spot behind Bob’s ear. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m here.”

  



End file.
